"My first thoughts were: What is it like; shall I be able to stand the sight of it? In the evening our waggons began to return, bringing many wounded. The medical officers rolled their sleeves up and set to work. My duty fell to assisting by taking off the dressings from the wounds, the first one being that of a soldier with part of his elbow blown away. It looked awful, but I got over it very well. Why? Because we had not time to think of it. There were others to attend to, most patiently waiting--and I think it is in such circumstances as these that one can see the true pluck and courage of the British soldier,--with here and there one pleading for attention. "Everyone worked hard; the hours passed as minutes, and when all were attended and we looked in solemn silence around, I turned to a comrade and asked the time. He answered it was after 4 A.M. I thought it was midnight. We had dealt with 134 wounded, among whom were several Germans. Under a shed in the school-yard lay five men who had died after being brought in; they were reverently buried in the local cemetery. Since this we have had worse and much of a similar nature, but they have become a conglomeration of events. It is the first night with the wounded that lives, and through it all a voice within me continually saying: 'And this is war.'" 3. Away behind the firing line, in some quiet spot unreached by shell or rifle fire, is the _Clearing Hospital_. To this spot come the ambulance waggons bearing their ghastly freight of broken bodies gathered from Regimental Aid Posts and Dressing Stations. The doctors are busily at work. Night is their busiest time. We wonder when the doctor at the front sleeps. We wonder with how little sleep it is possible to support life. These men seem tireless. Hour after hour through the night they toil on, probing here, amputating there. This is where we see in all its horror the meaning of that new word "frightfulness." I cannot describe the scenes that may be witnessed. I have before me, as I write, copies of _Guy's Hospital Gazette_ from the beginning of the war, kindly supplied me by the Editor. It is necessary that descriptions of the horrors should be written for professional eyes, but I will not harrow the feelings of my readers. I turn away from their perusal echoing the words of Staff-Sergeant Barlow--"And this is war." [Illustration: A RESCUE PARTY. Systematic search is made for the wounded, who often crawl away in the hope of reaching their own lines. _Drawn by Sydney Adamson._] I will rather let the Rev. E.L. Watson (Baptist chaplain) describe to us, as he saw it, the work at such a Clearing Hospital.